“It is too soon to know as yet.”
“I see you have the bump of caution,” with a little sneer; “now I make up my mind to like or dislike a place or a person on the spot. I suppose you are fond of riding?”
“I have never ridden since I was a child, but I hope to learn.”
“Then that mount on Captain Waring’s pony was your first attempt. How ridiculous you did look! I’m afraid you are rather too old to learn riding now. Can you dance?”
“Yes, I am very fond of dancing.”
“How many ball dresses did you bring out?” demanded Miss Paske.
“Only three,” replied the other, apologetically.
“Oh, they will be ample. India is not what it was. Girls sit out half the night. Don’t let your aunt choose your frocks for you, my dear—indeed, we will all present you with a vote of thanks if you will choose hers. I’ve such a painful sense of colour, that a crude combination always hurts me. Just look at that chuprassi, in bright scarlet, standing against a blazing magenta background—of Bourgainvillia—the contrast is an outrage. I must really ask some one to get the man to move on. Here comes Sir Gloster. We will go and appeal to him together,” and she walked off.
“I suppose that is the latest arrival?” said Sir Gloster, a big heavy-looking young man, who wore loose-fitting clothes, a shabby soft felt hat, and rolled as he walked.
“Yes—that is Miss Gordon, Mrs. Brande’s niece. She has half a dozen, and wrote home for one, and they say she asked for the best looking; and people here, who have nick-names for every one, call her ‘the sample.’”